I'm Giving Up On You
by im2old4this
Summary: Castiel's first encounter with the new Dean. Be warned: Season 9 spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

There was pain. A lot of pain. Castiel didn't even bother to try to contain the groan that slipped past his lips as he regained awareness. His head was still throbbing, which was not a good sign. Normally, sleep, or blissful unconsciousness, would be enough to heal him and his vessel of any damage he endured, but as the borrowed grace he had consumed slowly began to fizzle and burn out, his wounds fastidiously refused to mend.

_That's right...I'm dying..._

Castiel had to admit it was a rather pathetic, self-pitying thought. Perhaps he was not as stoically prepared for his imminent demise as he had let the Winchesters believe he was. But these thoughts were unfruitful at the moment. The moments exactly prior to his unconsciousness were a blur and the pounding in his head wasn't making them any clearer. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind and take in his surroundings. He was bound to a chair, a rope around his chest keeping him upright and cold metal cuffs locking his wrists behind him. The corner of his mouth was cracked and he could feel dried blood when he tried to wet his lips. The side of his face was swollen, but he was able to flutter his eyes open.

Something blue and bright swam into his vision, ticking back and forth like a pendulum. There was a familiarity to the light that made him uneasy. It glared in his overly sensitive vision and he blinked hard to force his eyes to focus.

"You're awake," came a familiar drawling voice from behind the cobalt-hued glow.

Dean smiled at him, a slow, serpentine smile, his eyes pitch black. He sat in front of Cas,slouched across a metal chain, with one forearm draped across the back. In his other hand he held the silver chain of a necklace. From the chain hung a small vial filled with the blue, ethereal glow. It was just like the one that Uriel had held Anna's grace in all those years ago. Dean swung it back and forth, his grin broadening as Cas' eyes grew wider in recognition and horror.

"Hannah..." Cas breathed, his voice catching in his throat as he watched the vial swing on its arch.

"You recognize her grace, huh?" said Dean, sounding cruelly gleeful. "Yeah, little Hannah wasn't too happy when I came and tried to take away her Fearless Leader. She put up a brave fight. You ought to be proud..."

Cas lurched forward, forgetting that this person was his best friend, the person he had followed into battle countless times, the one for whom he had turned his back on heaven. For a moment all he wanted to do was wrap his hands around Dean's throat and squeeze until he choked the sneer from his face. But then the metal of the handcuffs cut into his wrists and he let out a yelp of pain as a sheering jolt ran up his arms and wracked his already aching body.

"Pretty neat, aren't they?" quipped Dean, his eyes shifting from pitch black to their human hazel green. He jutted his chin out towards the cuffs binding Castiel. "They're kinda like the ones we used on Crowley. I figured if you could make them to hold a demon, why not an angel? Took me some digging to find the proper runes, but when you have all the resources of hell behind you, well, you can come up with some pretty interesting things."

He stood languidly, stretching out his long limbs, before sauntering over to the bound angel. Dean reached down and lovingly traced the etchings on the handcuffs. Castiel watched him warily, unable to keep the fear from his eyes. The worst part was that he couldn't tell himself that this wasn't Dean. That it was just something awful controlling his friend's body. He could see past the human form, past the hazel eyes, and into the other man's _being_. He knew that no matter how twisted and warped the remains of the soul were, it was still very much _Dean_.

"Made them myself," Dean continued. "None of that mess with the holy oil and setting everything on fire. And you're portable this way. And here everyone always thought Sammy was the clever one..." he said with a mirthless chuckle.

Castiel latched onto one word. _Portable? _So the plan wasn't just to kill him? Then he shuddered, imagining exactly what the demon might have in mind if it didn't mean outright killing him. He remembered what Dean had been like when he first found him in hell: feral, brutal and crazed from the blood-lust of torturing. He had had to wrestle Dean's soul into submission in order to raise him from perdition. Now with no grace, he would have no chance subdue Dean again.

"Just kill me..." Castiel looked at Dean with pleading blue eyes, trying to keep desperation out of his voice. "Please, if I ever meant anything to you, just get it over with..."

Dean stared at Castiel for a moment and then threw back his head and laughed. It was a malicious sound that sent a chill through the angel's veins. Castiel flinched at the noise and bowed his head in defeat.

"Did ya hear that?" the demon crowed, looking to someone who stood behind Cas, out of his field of vision. "He wants me to have mercy and kill him!" He turned his attention back to Castiel and leaned in close, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "Sorry, buddy, but I have other plans for you."

"Really, are you done _flirting_ so we can get on with this?" came a crisp voice from behind them, sounding very British and very exasperated. Crowley stepped into Cas's peripheral vision and smiled mockingly. "Good morning, angel." He greeted in a lilting, sing song voice.

Castiel slumped against his restraints. Of course the King of Hell was here. Not that he had had much hope of being able to reason with Dean, but there would be no chance with Crowley playing devil's advocate so to speak. The angel closed his eyes, trying to banish all the thoughts of what two demons could, and probably would, do to him.

"Ah, come on, don't be like that, Cas," Dean said, his voice taking on the joking tone he had often used when the two of them would banter back and forth. He moved to stand in front of him.

"Don't call me that," spat Castiel, his eyes narrowing. Anger bubbled up in his chest and he was suddenly uncontrollably furious. He had worked so hard, had done everything he could do to protect Dean. And despite all his efforts, all his sacrifices, they had ended up here. Castiel fought against the restraints, against the futility of it all. Everything within him rebelled at hearing that _thing_ call him.

_No, it was still Dean..._

"Don't you dare call me that..." Castiel trailed off, his jaw clench in frustration at his own impotence.

Dean grabbed his chin roughly and the necklace chain holding Hannah's grace dug into Castiel's cheek.

"Don't be like that, _Cas_," the demon hissed. "After all I've done for you..."

Dean let go of his face and stood back, nodding to Crowley. He removed the stopper to the vial, placing his thumb over the opening to keep the stolen grace from spilling out. His features seemed to darken and the angel could see his demonic nature swirling just below the surface.

"What are you doing?" asked Castiel, but he was cut off when he felt Crowley's fingers wind through his hair. The demon wrenched his head backward. Cas bit his lip to keep from crying out in pain, and Crowley used his free hand to force his mouth open.

"What..." he stammered again, but choked as Dean tipped the vial's contents into his mouth. Cas spluttered and writhed, but Dean covered his mouth and nose with his large hand. His vessel instinctively swallowed against his will. Castiel thrashed against the bindings, trying to twist his head away from both of the demons' grasps.

"Come on, Cas, don't fight," Dean crooned softly, his voice taking on a more human quality. Castiel's wide eyes met Dean's and for a moment the former hunter looked at him almost pleadingly.

Tears leaked down down the angel's face as his body greedily absorbed Hannah's grace. Already he could feel his vessel's wounds start to heal as the energy rushed through him. He could feel his essence consuming her grace like it had that other angel's, morphing it and making it his own. But this was so much worse. Before it had been an act of desperation. It had made it no less vile, no less monstrous, but at least it had been his own decision.

Crowley's fingers loosened from their death grip and the King of Hell stepped back. "Is it working, Squirrel?" he asked, bending down and peering curiously at Cas.

Dean removed his hand from over Castiel's mouth and the angel immediately gagged, trying to vomit up the stolen grace. But it was too late. His body devoured Hannah's grace. There was nothing left of her.

Castiel recoiled, twisting within the bindings. He focused all of the new energy that he had unwillingly consumed, trying to force it out, to break free. The handcuffs seemed to tighten in response, sending agonizing pain racing up his arms and draining away the flaring power.

"Why?" Castiel croaked, as he crumpled against the ropes that bound him upright.

"Because, Cas...," replied Dean, smoothing back sweat-damp hair from his friend's forehead. "I don't care if I have to gut every angel in heaven and on earth..." Dean's eyes shifted back to void-black. His voice had become dark and predatory. And determined.

"_I'm not going to let you die_."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean could _see_ Cas. His true form that it is. Dean thought back to all the times that the angel had waxed poetic about being a cosmic wavelength of energy or taller than the Chrysler Building and how he had always thought "_Yeah, yeah, keep on going ego-maniac_."

But all of Cas's bluster didn't quite match up to the truth. Dean popped another bite of pecan pie in his mouth as he studied the familiar features of the man sitting across the diner booth from him. There were the same piercing blue eyes and messy brown hair. The angel was looking a little scruffy, but that could be because they had kept him tied up for the past few days.

But underneath the ordinary features of his vessel, Dean could see Cas's true nature. He found he had to focus on one or the other or it gave him a headache. The warm blue glow of the grace seemed to shift right underneath the surface. There seemed to be so much of him that Dean couldn't understand how a human vessel could contain it all, much less for a substantial period of time. Already the grace had lost some of its luster as Cas' angelic strove vainly to keep himself alive.

_Was he burning up this grace even faster?_

Dean refused to think about that. "Want a bite?" he asked the sulking angel, holding out a forkful of pie.

Castiel looked up from the napkin he had been idly doodling on and met Dean's eyes. Then he turned and gazed pointedly at the rest of the diner. Dean followed his gaze across the restaurant. The other diners...well...they were all very much dead. Dean couldn't help grinning as Castiel turned back to him and glowered.

"Does that mean no?" he asked, cheerfully shoveling the proffered piece into his mouth. "At least I don't have to explain why you're handcuffed. That might have gotten awkward."

Castiel snorted in disgust and shifted to stare out the window, his finger tips brushing over the cold metal of the cuffs on his wrists. Crowley stood in the parking lot, hands stuffed in his coat pockets, the picture of ease and confidence. He was either haranguing or cajoling the two demons who stood opposite of him. Every once in awhile the the pair would look curiously over at the diner windows at Dean.

"He's using you," Cas stated dully, watching as the pair of demons turned back to Crowley. The King of Hell's negotiations seemed to be progressing smoothly.

"Like you never have?" taunted Dean. He was unmoved by Cas's involuntary flinch as he curled into himself, his angelic nature pulling inward slightly as if he was trying to move away from Dean's harsh words. "Like you've never lied to me or let me down or not been there when I needed you?"

Dean was suddenly quite glad that he hadn't left anyone alive in the diner. He could feel the Mark scorching his forearm, could feel the hunger begging him to take the Blade and slice Castiel's throat, to watch the grace fade from the angel's eyes. He licked his lips nervously. But he had already killed and the bloodlust was manageable.

"Dean, I'm sorry," Castiel murmured, a desperate, tragic look on his face.

"Of course, you're sorry," growled the demon. "You are always so _sorry_." His hands involuntarily moved toward the First Blade. Castiel's eyes followed his movements.

"It's still controlling you, even though you're a demon now. The only difference is that you don't have the compulsion to resist. You are no more in control than when you were still alive," stated Cas, his eyes seeming to glow with the challenge of his words.

"Don't even start preaching at me, Cas!" bellowed Dean, slamming his fist down, causing all the assorted bottles and cutlery on the tabletop to rattle. "You were never anything more than a sorry traitor. If it wasn't heaven you were betraying, it was me..."

He stopped and took a deep breath of unneeded air. If this conversation kept up it would end quickly with copious amounts of blood and violence. Thankfully, the bell above the door tinkled announcing Crowley's return. Crowley wove through the corpses, gracefully stepping over the larger pools of blood, before slipping into the booth next to Castiel. The angel gave him a dark look and edged as far away as he could, pressing against the cool glass of the window.

"They were reasonable chaps," stated the King of Hell, ignoring the angel. "They could easily see the weight of my argument." He glanced down at the blood covered First Blade that sat next to Dean's pie plate.

"You've been surprisingly forgiving, Crowley," commented Castiel, turning back to the window. The other demons were already gone. Most likely to pass on the news of the return of their beneficent ruler. And his brand new knight of hell. Castiel grimaced and turned back to the drawing he had previously been scribbling, adding more details to the bees.

"What is there not to forgive?" asked the King. "We're _demons__, _angel. I didn't really expect them to act any other way. Besides, I do believe they will think twice about betraying me from now on," he said with a smirk.

"Ah, yes, your new _favorite_," muttered Cas with a peevish glance at Dean.

"Jealous, angel?" taunted Crowley. "No offense, Dean," he commented, turning back to the former hunter. "While you are definitely an asset, soon and very soon, I'm going to give all of hell a reason to follow me wholeheartedly. To our mutual benefit, of course" he said, tilting his head toward the angel.

Cas paused in his scribbling to glance at the older demon. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach. He looked at Dean to try to get a hint of what Crowley may be referring to, but Dean was pointedly looking in the other direction. He stuffed the last bite of pie into his mouth and stood. His hand automatically reached backward for his wallet, but he caught himself and laughed a cruel, mirthless laugh.

"Guess there's no reason to leave a tip, huh?" he said with a nod to the dead diners. He then gestured for Crowley to lead the way. The King stood and elegantly navigated his way back through the corpses. Castiel abandoned his pen and napkin and scooted over to follow. Dean moved to block his way, leaning over and grabbing his wrist. He squeezed hard, causing the angel to wince. He then reached over and flipped the napkin over, revealing the hastily scrawled message.

"Nice try, Cas," he hissed at his friend. "Enochian, huh? I'm sure Sammy would have eventually been able to translate it." Dean balled up the napkin and stuffed it in his pocket. "Come on," he growled, yanking Cas's arm hard, half-dragging the angel from the booth.

Crowley was waiting patiently by the door. He shrugged at the angel as if to say _you win some, you lose some_. Castiel scowled at the demon, but that only made him grin wider. Crowley took one last look around the restaurant.

"Moose will be impressed with your work, Dean," he purred, glancing around in appreciation.

Dean turned back as well. He felt satisfied. A cruel smile tilted his lips, and he instinctively looked towards Cas, wanting to share the moment of accomplishment. The look of reproach in the angel's eyes stifled his feeling of elation. For a moment he had forgotten their differences. But the reality of what he was now came crashing down around him and it was as if he was staring at his best friend from across an unreachable gulf. Dean snarled at the angel.

"Let's go," he muttered, twisting Cas's wrist out of sheer malice. Then the trio stepped out of the bloodied diner and into the night.

_**Authors' Note**_

_Thank you so much for the faves, comments and follows! I hadn't really expected to get such positive feedback and originally was only going to do this as a one shot (it was a scene I had stuck in my head and finally decided to type it up). So I apologize if its all down hill from here. Still, I'll try to keep it going and hopefully finish it before the new season. Thanks again!_


	3. Chapter 3

The smell of blood was overwhelming. Sam Winchester automatically switched from breathing through his nose to through his mouth as he stepped into the restaurant, the chime over the door tinkling merrily. The bodies had been removed, but the diner was still a mess. The crime scene unit guys were milling about, taking pictures and samples.

Sam wished he could say that he would never get used to this, that he would never get accustomed to the violence and death. But he sadly acknowledge that he had gotten used to it a long time ago. Like the officers walking around him, this was just another day at the office so to speak.

Their office was just more violent than most.

The head homicide detective looked up and nodded in his direction. "Agent Lattimer," Detective Peters greeted, waving the taller man over to join him where he had set up a laptop on a relatively clean spot on the diner counter.

"What have we got?" Sam asked, moving to pull the fake ID from out of his coat pocket. Peters waved his hand, letting Sam know he didn't need to see the credentials. Sheriff Mills had put him in touch with Lattimer. As long as she vouched for the guy, he didn't need much more. The detective swung the laptop around. He had the surveillance video queued up.

"We got a good shot of our perps right before the surveillance system went on the fritz."

Sam watched as the video began to play, showing just another night at the local diner. Then the door swung open and a very familiar figure stepped in. The diminutive King of Hell glanced back and forth across the restaurant as if surveying his kingdom. He looked up, his eyes falling on the CCTV camera. And he smiled.

Sam watched as the hostess stepped towards Crowley, greeting him cheerfully. The smile slipped from her face as someone entered the diner behind the demon. It was Dean, the First Blade gripped tightly in his right hand. He was dragging someone behind him. Crowley held his hand up, making an odd flicking motioning, causing the surveillance systems to black out. But not before Sam saw exactly who it was that Dean had with him.

_Oh Cas... _Sam thought miserably.

"...religious zealots, I think," Peters was saying. Sam forced himself to focus back on what the detective was saying. "Did you see what he was carrying? Some kind of jawbone. Kinda like Samson in Judges..."

Sam looked at the man in surprise. The detective shrugged and tugged out a gold chain from underneath his shirt, showing a small gold cross and a medal of St. Michael. He let the necklace fall with a thump against his chest. "Of course, between televangelists and nut jobs like these guys, sometimes I have my doubts," he murmured almost to himself. "So any thoughts? Jo- I mean Sheriff Mills said this sort of thing was your expertise. The short one looked like he was dressed up kinda like some sort of preacher? "

Sam raised an eyebrow at the slip up regarding Jody, but let it pass without comment. And the thought of Crowley as a clergyman made he want to laugh outright. "I think you're right about the fanatics part," he stated slowly. Because he couldn't very well say, no, it was two demons and the angel they are apparently holding hostage.

"So, I have two sick nut jobs loose in my town?" asked Peters grumpily. He stared out the windows to the parking lot, and the peaceful streets beyond that.

"No," Sam replied. "They'll move on from here. They're the careful sort. They want me to notice and to follow them, but they aren't going to stay around long enough to get caught."

"You've seen these guys before?" Peters asked with surprise. Great, now he had _famous_ nut jobs loose in his town.

"Yeah, I've dealt with them," stated Sam somewhat bitterly. He turned and handed the detective a business card. The one with the number to Dean's other other cell phone. "Call me if you get anything else. Don't worry. I won't let them get away with this."

Sam then turned and strode out of the diner and towards the Impala. His stomach felt knotted. _Dean had done this._ Dean had killed all those people. Sam's mind flashed back to Dean confessing to enjoying torturing other souls in hell. He had almost become a demon then. Maybe it had just been a matter of time?

The hunter slid into the driver's seat and pressed his forehead against the steering wheel. It had only been a matter of days since he had sat in the bunker, trying to summon Crowley. He thought he had lost his brother, but now he knew it was something much worse. He had seen Dean, seen his black, void eyes, but seeing the aftermath of what he had done to a room full of innocent people...Sam wasn't ready to accept this.

The image of Castiel being dragged in behind Dean made his stomach knot tighter. Sam hadn't heard from the angel since he and Gadreel had infiltrated heaven. How had Dean gotten a hold of him?

_Why does everything we do always go so wrong?_

Sam banged his fists against the steering wheel, impotent anger rushing through his veins. Several of the CSI members looked over at a federal agent apparently having a temper tantrum in his car. Sam let out a puff of air and forced himself to calm down. He needed to find out what had happened to Cas – but how? He couldn't bring himself to call on Gadreel but maybe...

"Hannah?" he whispered. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands in front of him. He had stopped praying years ago when Cas hadn't answered. It had always been Dean that the angel had answered, never him. "Castiel is in danger and Dean...Hannah, if you can hear me, please...I need help."

He opened his eyes and scanned the parking lot, only to find the police officers now joined by Detective Peters. They were all staring at him as if he had lost his mind. There was no Hannah. Letting out a grunt of frustration, Sam cranked the Impala and shifted the car into gear. He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the quiet street, leaving the scene at the diner behind.

* * *

Sam's hands were wrapped around the coffee mug, vainly trying to pull some warmth from the ceramic. It was particularly hard since the coffee had gone cold over half an hour ago. The chatty waitress, who had been planning on writing her number on the bill, had made herself rather scarce after Sam's curt responses and flat, uninterested looks. He wasn't getting good service, but at least she was leaving him alone.

He stared out the window at the appropriately dreary sky, the gray clouds scudding overhead. Around him the regulars were discussing the murder at the diner a few towns over. Sam was trying to block out their chatter.

Hannah hadn't answered his prayer. Sam hoped it was just her hate for the Winchesters that kept her from responding. Or with heaven still in an uproar, maybe she just didn't hear. But he knew that was wishful thinking. If Dean had Cas, then that meant Hannah was probably...

Sam sighed and took a sip of the coffee, his nose wrinkling in distaste at the cold brew. As he pushed the mug away in disgust a bubbly girl bounded over and plopped down in the chair across from him. She grinned at him, her eyes bright and excited.

"Is this him, Matthias?" she called to an older teenager who was approaching them at a more sedate pace.

"Um, hi?" Sam greeted her, clearly confused. Her blonde hair had streaks of dark red dyed into it and was gathered back into a high, jaunty ponytail. Her clothing was a mix of goth and punk, as if she couldn't quite decide which way she wanted to go with it. The dark makeup didn't seem to fit her perky personality. The boy looked to be the All-American jock type, with cool blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. He even wore a varsity jacket.

"I'm Matthias," he greeted. "I heard your prayer to Hannah. I..." The boy trailed off. He was about to sit down across from Sam, but he froze, his eyes widening. "You're Sa-" He stopped, his eyes darting to the girl and then away. "I'm sorry, I was mistaken," he rushed. "I didn't mean to bother you." He grabbed the girl's arm and tugged urgently.

"What's the matter?" she asked at the same time Sam blurted "You heard my prayer? Then you're an ang- "

"No, really, it was just a mistake..." Matthias mumbled, trying to pull the young girl up to follow him. She resisted, pulling back as she glared up at the boy.

"You said he needed help!" she protested, turning back to Sam and staring at him with blue eyes that were intense and determined looking. Sam blinked. She looked oddly familiar.

"I need to speak to Hannah..." he began, looking desperately at the angel that was trying to make his getaway. He glanced at the young girl, wondering if she was an angel too.

"She's dead," Matthias snapped, losing his temper and then immediately looking as if he regretted it. "You ought to know who killed her" he added sullenly, giving Sam an accusing glare, as if by simply being Dean's brother he was complicit in his crimes.

"Then I need your help," the hunter said, his voice taking on a calm, yet earnest tone. He leaned forward. "He has Castiel and I..."

"What?" cried the young girl. Matthias's shoulders slumped in defeat. She snatched her hand from the angel's grip and reached across the diner top and grabbed Sam's wrist tight. "What do you mean he has Castiel? _Tell me where my dad is right now_."

Sam stared at the girl in disbelief for a moment and suddenly he knew why she was so familiar. "Claire?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Matthias saved me," Claire Novak stated simply, pushing strands of hair behind her ear. She glanced over with shy admiration at the angel sitting beside her. Matthias for his part looked rather miserable, but when he noticed Claire looking at him, he smiled back kindly. Claire turned back to the man she hadn't seen in years. She had always been rather bitter towards Sam and Dean Winchester. They were the reason why her father had left.

Well, technically the angel Castiel had done that, but if it hadn't been for them, Castiel would never have needed a human vessel. And while her short time as Castiel's vessel was a haze, she had been left with the strong impression of how much he cared for those two. It was probably that impression was the only thing keeping her from slapping the taste from Sam's mouth.

"He saved you?" prompted Sam, looking between the pair. They exchanged another glance.

"Claire is a strong vessel...like her father," explained Matthias. The young girl snorted and looked out the window. Sam saw tears in her eyes. "After the fall, well, it was only a matter of time before she was sought out. So many were desperate for vessels. When I came across her, two of my brothers were...fighting over her..." The angel glanced down at the table, clearly ashamed of the others' actions.

"But an angel can't take a human. They have to have permission..." argued Sam, not liking where this may be leading.

Claire turned back to him, her eyes cold and defiant. "They told me they were going to kill mom if I didn't say yes," she stated, her voice cracking with emotion. She bit her lip to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks. "But then Matthias showed up."

"I tried to reason with them, but they were half-crazed with fear. So I had no choice." He shifted and Sam saw the angel blade hidden in his varsity jacket. "I couldn't let them hurt a human like that."

Claire turned to Matthias with _that_ look in her eyes. The angel blushed and grinned slightly though it was clear he was a little uncertain about what her look meant.

_Uh oh, _thought Sam_. I don't think Jimmy would like this..._

Claire turned back to Sam, a stubborn look on her face. "So who is this person who has my dad...or Castiel...or whatever?" Sam fidgeted and kept his eyes fixed on the coffee mug in front of him. "Please," the young girl begged. "I deserve to know and you know it. Castiel may be your...friend...but that is my dad's body."

Sam sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. As much as he wanted to hold back the truth from her, he knew all too often that only ended getting others hurt. All those years of half-truths and lies had done nothing but destroyed his family. Reluctantly, Sam began to talk. And he told her everything. He finally broke off with Dean's death and subsequent "resurrection". Claire let out a whoosh of air and puckered her lips as she thought for a moment.

"That sucks," she announced with all the bluntness of a young teen girl. Sam couldn't help but crack a small smile.

"Yeah, it does," he replied with a short, humorless laugh.

"So, now what?" she said in the tone of a kid who was about to take over a group project. She looked between the two men as she waited for their input.

"Now you go home to your mother, Claire," Sam stated firmly.

"No way!" she protested. She brought her fists down on the the tabletop, drawing the attention of some of the nearby patrons. "And put her in even more danger? This is just as much my battle as yours, Sam Winchester! My dad..."

"Is probably dead," he cut her off. He immediately regretted his harsh words when he saw how she seemed to shrink into herself. He looked to Matthias for support.

"Castiel became human, Claire," the angel explained calmly. "When that happened, you're father's soul may have..." He made a vague gesture with his hands and shrugged helplessly. This sort of thing was a metaphysical quandary that didn't happen every day.

"Listen, I understand what it's like to loose your father and want to do anything to get him back. But I can't let you do this, Claire. For Jimmy's sake," stated Sam.

She stared at Sam with cool blue eyes. "And if it was your dad, would you give up, even if there was a chance that he was already gone?"

Sam felt helpless. Even now with Dean corrupted and turned by the First Blade, he couldn't bring himself to give up on his brother. How could he tell her to do what he wasn't willing to do himself? "Claire, you need to understand my brother is capable of anything right now. He will not hesitate to hurt you, especially if it might hurt Cas to do it," he tried to reason. "I can't let you risk your life."

"That's not your choice, it's mine," Claire replied. "If you leave, we'll just follow you." When Matthias opened his mouth as if to object, she glared at him and amended her statement. "_I'll _follow you."

Sam opened his mouth to argue but saw that it was pointless. He had no choice but to bring her along. For now. He could get them settled in a hotel room and then be long gone by morning. Claire would be furious and most likely make Matthias' life a living hell badgering him to try to track Sam down, but Sam was sure the angel wouldn't mind as long as she was safe.

"Fine," Sam said, throwing his hands up in concession. A small part of him felt remorse for his deception, but he wouldn't let more people die because of him and his family. He fumbled for his wallet and threw down money to cover the food.

Claire perked up, clearly pleased that Sam had capitulated. "Do I get a gun? Will you teach me to shoot?"

"No," grumbled Sam. The enthusiasm in her cobalt eyes reminded him of when Cas had declared that he was going to become a hunter. For a moment Sam wondered if Claire had what it would take, but he knew it wouldn't be worth the complete lost of her innocence and hope. The thought that what he did made it possible for people like Claire could live happy lives was why Sam fought. He may have only met Jimmy once, but he would do whatever he had to do to keep the man's daughter safe. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Two figures watched unseen as Sam and the teenagers left the diner and headed towards the Impala. The young girl wore a look of determination; the angel looked cross between distraught and slightly nauseous. Even from the distance the pair could see the tic in Sam's jaw revealing just how much stress the young hunter was under.

"Looks like Sammy is making new friends," drawled Dean, glancing over at Castiel as the trio scrambled into the Impala and drove off.

The angel remained silent, trying not to give away a hint that he recognized the young girl. It felt odd to see Jimmy's daughter and his one time vessel all these years later. It felt bittersweet and somewhat nostalgic. He recognized Matthias as well and he questioned what the young angel was doing with Claire. Cas was so absorbed with his worries that he didn't notice Dean watching him carefully.

Dean could tell that something was bothering Castiel and he was curious if it was the angel or the girl that was the cause. For a moment when they had left the diner, Dean could have sworn he had seen cerulean blue flecks intermingled with the girl's soul. It was as if she had grace inside of her. She couldn't be a nephilim as Castiel himself had killed the last of those. So what was a human doing with grace? He felt the pull of the First Blade in the corner of his mind, tempting him to track them down and kill all three of them. But one look at Cas' face convinced him it might be sweeter to wait and draw this out just a little longer.

"Come on, Cas, let's go say hi to Sammy," Dean said, taking hold of the angel's trench coat and dragging him along. His reunion with his baby brother was long overdue.

* * *

_Authors Note: I am not 100% satisfied with this chapter. I was almost done writing it when I had a plot bunny come wreck havoc in my mind and I ended up re-writing half of it. So I apologize and I promise there will be plenty of Dean and Cas in the next chapter. _


	5. Chapter 5

Sam leaned against the doorway of the adjoining rooms and watched as Claire flopped backward onto the bed, giggling with delight. He wondered exactly where she and Matthias had been staying all this time. Apparently no where particularly nice if she was this enthused over a lumpy mattress and sheets of questionable cleanliness. The angel was staring curiously at the motel room's décor which was decidedly "cowboy" from the headboards made of faux cow horns to the black and white spotted throw rug. Sam had to admit he and Dean seemed to have a penchant for finding the most bizarrely themed hotels in the United States. It was something he secretly missed now that they had a more permanent home in the Bunker. Motel rooms like this one had defined Sam's childhood.

"This place is so wonderfully...gaudy!" cried Claire. She rolled over onto her stomach and picked up the cow-shaped alarm clock. "Check it out, Matty!"

Sam couldn't help smiling as he watched the angel cross over to her and take the clock from her hands, studying it intently. For a moment, the pair reminded him of Dean and Cas, the human trying to teach the angel what it was like down here. The angel a bit clueless, the human hiding behind a tough girl attitude. Sam swallowed hard and pushed away from the door frame, banishing thoughts of his two brothers.

"We'll get an early start tomorrow," he stated, placing his hands on his hips and trying to use his best "older brother" tone. He realized he sounded an awful lot like Dean.

Claire grinned at him and gave a mock salute. "Yes, sir," she stated in a fake serious tone, tucking in her chin and scowling.

Sam couldn't resist cracking a small smile. "If you two need anything, just knock," he said, pointing to the door that led to his separate room. As he turned to leave, Matthias glanced over and caught his eye. His look was clear – he knew Sam planned on leaving them there and hightailing it long before Claire woke. The angel smiled slightly and mouthed "thank you". Sam nodded imperceptibly and headed back into his own room, shutting the door behind him.

He would need to go bed soon, but first he had some research. He fumbled through his bags, pulling out a few of the ones he had managed to round up on the First Blade. The Men of Letters had several volumes on religious artifacts and weapons and each mentioned the Blade, but none of the mythologies seemed to match. Sam paged through book after book and only became more hopelessly confused. The Blade itself was corrupt; it was Cain's act of murder that had corrupted it; the Blade was created by Lucifer; the Blade predated the creation of the angels themselves.

Sam rubbed his eyes, his mind spinning from ancient words scrawled on seemingly endless pages. He needed more coffee. He stood and shuffled towards the in-room coffee maker. In the next room he could still hear talking, meaning Claire was still up. As he filled started the coffee maker percolating, he listened to Claire and Matthias speaking to one another in low voices as if they were sharing secrets. For a moment, he wondered if he needed to kick the door down and put the fear of God into the angel, but he remembered Cas had been pretty clueless about sex, so hopefully Matthias was just as ignorant.

He had been so focused on the sound of the teenagers' voices that it took him a moment to notice the smell underneath the aroma of brewing coffee. It was the distinct scent of sulfur.

Sam spun, his hand reaching for the Kurdish demon knife that was not there. It lay next to the books cluttering the small table he had just left. And sitting on his hotel bed were two very familiar figures.

"Hiya, Sammy," greeted Dean, his eyes pitch black. In one hand, he held the First Blade and with the other he gripped Castiel's shirt collar, holding the angel still. "Did you really think your wards would keep us out?" Dean asked, waving to the chalk drawings on the back door and the salt lining the window sills. He shook Castiel a little as if to get the angel to join in his amusement.

Castiel shifted roughly in an attempt to break free. Not that it would do much good with the binding manacles still cutting into his wrists. He didn't want to be here, to see _this. _Dean had shown great restraint not killing him; he wasn't sure if the newly minted demon would be able to do the same with Sam.

"Dean," croaked Sam, his heart rate spiking. In that moment he realized he was actually afraid of his brother. The demon noticed his discomposure and smiled lazily.

"What's wrong, baby brother? Not glad to see me?" he drawled. He reached up and violently ruffled Castiel's hair, causing the angel to wince. "Me and Cas here thought we would stop by and say hello."

Castiel yanked away from Dean's touch and turned to face Sam. He could tell Sam's mind was desperately trying to gauge the threat. The angel knew that his presence with Dean was confusing Sam, making him doubt just how evil the demon had become. He could see a small glimmer of hope in the young man's eyes. He held up his hands to show off the engraved handcuffs and the raw skin around his wrists. The hope faded quickly.

"What have you done to him, Dean!?" barked Sam, instinctively moving forward. He froze when Dean held up the First Blade, his expression flat.

"I'm fine," answered Cas, hoping to defuse the building tension between the two brothers. "Dean, hasn't...hurt me."

"He's too stupid to take care of himself, Sammy, so I'm doing it for him is all. Isn't that right, buddy," he growled, hooking his arm around Castiel's neck. Normally it would have been a friendly gesture, but the meaning was somewhat lost with Dean's eyes still a pitch black.

Sam frowned and looked between the two men. His hunter's instinct said to fight Dean off and get Cas the hell out of there. But he knew that would be beyond foolish, a vain attempt that would only get him and the angel killed. Cas gave him a disheartened look and turned as far away from Dean as he could.

"Why are you here, Dean?" snarled Sam, as he began to edge back towards the desk contain his books and the demon knife. His brother smirked at the obvious maneuver.

"What, I can't just drop by and say hello to my beloved baby bro?" he inquired with a vicious smile. He moved his arm from around Cas but kept a restraining hand on his shoulder. His expression deadened. "Who were those kids you were with this afternoon?"

Castiel involuntarily tensed at the sudden reference to Claire and Matthias. Dean glanced at him momentarily when he felt the angel's muscles tighten. His eyes flickered back to Sam. He watched as his brother tried to compose his face in a neutral expression.

_Oh, Sammy, you are so transparent..._the demon thought.

"They were just two kids in need of a ride," Sam said, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously as he swallowed hard.

"Riiiight," replied Dean with a raised eyebrow. He tilted his head slightly to the side. "And that wouldn't be them in the next room of course."

Castiel felt a cold terror flood his veins. _Claire_...he thought desperately. He watched Sam blink several times in a vain attempt to keep his expression emotionless. Dean let out a humorless laugh.

"You shouldn't try hiding things from me, Sammy-boy," he said in a sing-song voice.

Sam opened his mouth to deny it, but there was no point. At that moment, the door to the adjoining room swung open and Claire bounced in, completely unaware of the visitors.

"Hey, Sam! Can we order pizza?" she asked, grinning widely. She caught sight of the other two men in the room. For a brief moment, she wore a look of blank confusion but then her eyes widened in horror as she took in the sight of Dean's blackened eyes and his grip on Cas's shoulder. She lunged forward, Sam barely having time to grab her around the waist and drag her backward.

"Let go of him you bastard!" she screeched, flailing against Sam's arms.

Dean tightened his grip on Cas as he felt the angel tense to make a move for the girl. Castiel struggled against his hold, trying to wrench himself free.

"Claire!" The amount of emotion in his voice surprised Cas. All these years he had scarcely given a thought of his vessel's family. But all that he had been through had changed him and now Cas found that he actually did care about what became of them, especially this child Claire. He had destroyed her family; he wouldn't be responsible for ending her life.

Dean glanced between the struggling angel and the struggling girl. A quick look at their eyes, that same sky blue shade, and he momentarily felt rather idiotic for not recognizing her sooner. "Well, well, this _is_ quite the reunion!" he crowed, a sinister smile snaking across his face. He pulled Castiel against himself and placed the First Blade against his throat. "Hello, Claire. Long time no see."


	6. Chapter 6

Sam felt Claire go limp in his arms, her body shaking from fear and repressed tears. Matthias burst into the room, his eyes glowing with his grace. He looked from Dean to Castiel and back, uncertainty clouding his face. He shifted closer to Sam and Claire.

"Well, now, isn't this cozy?" quipped Dean, pressing the First Blade harder against Cas' throat.

For a brief moment, Castiel considered leaning forward and letting that blade slice into his neck, allowing the borrowed grace spill out and for it to all be over, but that would be the coward's way out. And he wasn't going to die without saving Dean Winchester. The angel remained frozen, his eyes pleading with Sam to take Claire and run.

"Tell me something, Cas," ordered Dean, his eyes focusing in on Claire. "How come the girl has grace?"

"I...I don't know what you mean," stalled Castiel as he tried not to fidget. He purposely avoided Sam's eyes. Out of the corner of his vision he could see Sam tense. He knew the hunter was remembering his own experience of having Gadreel's leftover grace removed from his body.

"Somebody's lying," replied Dean in a singsong voice. "I'm not stupid, Cas, _I can see it. _Tell me now or I'll kill all three of them."

Castiel stared at Sam, silently begging him to remain quiet, but he knew it was no good; Sam was going to give in. Dean gave Cas a mockingly playful poke in the jaw with the Blade.

"I'm waiting..."the demon teased.

"Look, an angel leaves a residue of it's grace behind when it abandons a vessel," Sam rushed to explain, drawing Dean's attention to himself. Castiel let out a frustrated noise that the two brothers ignored. "I know because Cas and I tried to remove Gadreel's grace from my body for a tracking spell..." Sam's jaw tightened convulsively as he remembered the agony of the procedure.

Dean turned his attention to Claire, studying the young girl intently. He nodded towards the underlying flickers of energy only he and the two angels could see. "So it's Cas' grace?" he asked.

For a moment Dean sounded like himself. There was no sneering sarcasm in his voice, just eagerness. It almost sounded like hope. His eyes shifted from demonic black for the first time, returning to their bright blue-green. He stared at Claire with delight, but Sam could tell he wasn't see the girl – the human – in front of him. He turned his attention back to Sam, an excited look on his face.

"Sam, we could..." he began but Castiel cut him off.

"No!" barked the angel as he began to struggle against Dean's hold, not caring when he felt the First Blade cut a thin line against his throat. "I will not let you. Sam! Get her out of her now!"

Sam stared at him, and then a cold dread spread through his stomach as he began to comprehend what Dean may want. But even with the fear came a tendril of hope. If Dean wanted to save Cas, then maybe, he really was still Dean after all.

"Cas! She has your grace!" argued Dean, trying to hold on tighter to the struggling angel without harming him. "We could use it..."

"Dean, _no. _It will kill her." At this statement, Claire turned pale and her body went rigid. Against her will, she let out a small whimper as she pressed closer to Sam. Cas felt an almost desperate yearning to free himself and go to her. "It almost killed Sam when we tried to remove Gadreel's grace from him. He would have died if I hadn't stopped!_"_

"It's just some stupid kid!" Dean screamed, his eyes shifting from their normal blue-green back to black.

At that statement, Castiel's eyes darkened to a deep stormy blue. Sam had a distinct feeling he was about to watch Dean and Cas kill one another. Matthias moved between him and Claire to shield them from the pair, his angel blade appearing in his hand.

"I won't let you near her, _demon," _spat Cas vehemently.

Dean went perfectly still. He felt the rage of the Blade bubbling up inside of him, blinding him to all rational thought. "You arrogant, self-righteous..." he began, his voice low and dangerous. He felt his body tense and he knew certainty that he was going to draw the Blade across Castiel's throat and end him when he felt a searing pain in his shoulder.

Matthias stood there, his angel blade thrust into Dean's shoulder near the joint of his arm. The angel had clearly had been going for his heart, but either through inexperience or nerves, he had missed terribly. The wound hurt but was not fatal. It wouldn't even really slow him down. Dean smiled evilly.

"You don't want this fight, kid, trust me," he hissed.

Matthias wrenched the blade out of Dean. The demon didn't even flinch.

"Matty! No!" wailed Claire, fighting against Sam's hold.

Dean sneered. "Hope you kissed your boyfriend goodbye, kiddo." He shoved Castiel away from himself and stood in a fluid movement. Matthias stumbled backward, trying to put distance between himself and the demon.

"Get her out of here Winchester!" Matthias yelled over his shoulder.

Sam hesitated, not wanting to abandon Matthias or Cas, but one look at Cas told him everything. His eyes met Sam's and he shook his head slightly and mouthed "_go_". Sam knew he wouldn't be able to save them. But he could protect Claire.

Claire began shrieking as Dean lunged for Matthias, swinging the First Blade down over his head. Matthias clumsily blocked the initial attack, but it was clear he was outmatched. Sam slung Claire over his shoulder, ignoring her kicks and punches as she screamed for Matthias. Dean began to turn towards his brother, but Cas chose that moment to barrel into him, sending them both crashing into a side table.

Sam made it to the table that Ruby's Demon Blade lay on. He snatched it up along with the keys to the Impala, feeling a twinge of regret as he abandoned the priceless books and bolted for the the hotel door. At least there were no longer any Men of Letters left to berate him about their lost.

Sam was grateful for every inch of his bulk as he ran for the Impala. Claire may be young, but she was putting up an incredible fight, screaming for Matthias and her father the entire time. Sam knew there were probably already concerned hotel guests calling 911 between her frantic cries and the sounds of the struggle coming from his abandoned room. He just hoped Dean would be gone before the police arrived.

He set Claire down, holding onto her arm as she fought to go back into the hotel room. He fumbled to unlock the Impala. Once the door was opened, he unceremoniously shoved the fighting teen inside. He climbed in after her, getting a foot to the face, but still managing to get in and start the car.

"No, Sam, please, we have to go back!" she sobbed, tears turning her mascara into rivulets down her cheeks. She pounded her fists into his arm. "_Please, Sam..."_

For a moment, Sam pictured the scene that would be waiting for the police when they arrived. The room in tatters and two corpses with inexplicable markings around their bodies. Markings that took the shape of wings. Sam thought he was going to be sick.

Instead, he put the car in drive and pealed out of the hotel parking lot, his heart hardened to the girl's sobs and to the certainty of Castiel's death. 

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the shorter chapter. I had major writer's block and it took forever to get this. However, I've already started on Chapter 7, so hopefully it won't be so long until the next update. Thanks bunches and bunches to all those who read, review and follow!


	7. Chapter 7

Matthias edged away from the grappling demon and angel. He heard the Impala speed out of the parking lot and part of the tension in his body relaxed. Claire was gone. She would be safe. He hesitated, wanting to follow after her but he couldn't rightly leave his brother here to face the demon alone, not when he was bound and weakened.

With a grunt, Dean managed to sling off Castiel. The angel landed in a heap, his head striking the bed frame. For a moment Cas felt woozy and he fought off the sensation that was clouding his mind. Dean struggled to his feet and turned back to Matthias. The fight seemed to have gone out of the youthful angel. He gave Dean a half-smile, looking almost apologetic. He knew he had only been a distraction to buy the two humans time to escape.

Dean let out a long string of curses, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. He could see Castiel attempting to get to his feet once more and he uttered a phrase in an archaic language. Cas cried out, the manacles that were binding his wrists flashing white hot at the activated containment spell. He hunched over and curled protectively around his burning wrists. Dean pointed the First Blade at him.

"You, stay there," he spat the order. The sound of unfurling wings caught his attention as Matthias made an attempt to escape. "Oh no you don't," he muttered angrily, dissolving into a cloud of black smoke and slamming into the angel, forcing them both back into temporal space. He blindly brought the Blade down, feeling the satisfying snag as it caught one of Matthias' wings, half-severing it from his vessel. The angel cried out in shock and pain, crumpling to the ground.

"Dean, stop!" screamed Castiel, a sick horror filling up inside him. Dean turned to him, his eyes pitch black and void of any semblance of the man he once was. Cas knew there would be no getting through the rage of the First Blade to him.

Dean brought the Blade down again, this time completely severing the fall-torn wing from the angel. Matthias let out an agonized scream, beads of perspiration forming on his forehead. His ability to keep his vessel's personality separate was beginning to falter. The teenager was becoming aware of the pain and he could feel the boy beginning to panic.

Dean reached under his shirt collar and pulled out a leather cord with a vial at the end. "You might as well make yourself useful for all the trouble you've caused," he growled as he opened the vial. Matthias stared at it dully through the pain searing across his being.

"S_ecretiora mea numerasti pone lacrimam meam in conspectu tuo sed non in narratione tua_," the angel muttered, his voice slurring slightly.

Dean paused, he strange words slowing the tide of the Blade's rage. "Wh-what?" he stammered, confusion crowding out the intense desire to kill.

"'You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book'," translated the angel. Matthias pointed shakily at the vial. "It's a _urnae lacyrmales_. They were once used to hold the tears of those mourning. It's the only thing that can hold an angel's grace."

He muttered these last words with a tone of defeat. He knew what the demon would now do to him, but he wasn't as frightened as he thought he would be. He turned to Castiel, to the one some of his brethren considered a hero. He trusted that of anyone else in the world, it would be Castiel who would stop this monster and protect his Claire.

"I don't really care what it is," replied Dean. "Sorry, kid, you have something I need." He brought the First Blade up over his head and swung it down in a graceful arch.

* * *

The nighttime scenery was a blur as the Impala raced down the Interstate. Sam continuously glanced in the rearview mirror for signs of pursuit, but each time all his saw was empty road stretching on under pale moonlight. He could hear Claire sniffling but he kept his attention fixed on the road in front of him. She was sitting sideways in the passenger seat, her back pointedly towards him. It hurt a little bit, but there would be time to make amends later. The tape player was playing one of Dean's Metallica mixes and Sam angrily turned it off.

A few miles further down and he took the exit that would head back in the direction of the bunker. Sam knew it would only be a matter of time before Dean would go there to look for them, but he had to hope that the Men of Letters' warding would buy them some time.

Sam's mind spun futilely, replaying the interaction with Dean on infinite loop, studying every nuance of expression and every word spoken. Was there any trace of the man that was his brother left in the demon? He thought back to the moment when Dean had tried to appeal to him to help him save Cas. As terrible as the thought was, he couldn't help but wonder if even human-Dean would have been willing to sacrifice Claire for the angel. Surely that mean there was still a part of Dean's humanity left?

* * *

Dean stood stunned as he watched the red blood blossom through the Castiel's dress shirt. His eyes shifted back to their human blue-green as fear filled his mind. "You stupid son of a bitch," he muttered, looking between his friend and the young angel he had shoved out of the way.

"Run, Matthias," hissed Castiel as he clutched the seeping wound in his right shoulder. He hoped it wouldn't prove fatal, but he was so weak right now, he couldn't feel confident in that assessment.

The younger angel did not argue. With a stuttering flapping noise, he disappeared. He wouldn't be able to go far with only one wing, and that wing already so damaged by the fall, but that didn't matter. Dean wasn't going to pursue him; he couldn't stop staring at the red spreading across Cas' shirt. The demon's grip tighten on the Blade.

"What the hell are you thinking, Cas?" he yelled, anger bubbling up. He reached out with his free hand and grabbed the angel by the shirt collar, shaking him violently. "Do you just not care? Does it not matter? You're _dying_, dammit!"

Dean shoved the angel away from himself and began to pace back and forth like a caged animal.

"Nothing I do is ever good enough for you, is it? _I kill for you, and it's not enough_..." the demon snarled.

"Why do you think I would want you to kill for me?" asked Castiel softly. "Dean..."

"Oh, so I'm 'Dean' again? Not just 'demon'," he snapped. He spun towards the angel his eyes darkening and then shifting completely to black. "I've had it, Castiel. I was never good enough for Dad. All I ever heard was to try harder, to be better, but it was never enough for him_._"

"Dean..."

"And Sam, he just up and left me alone, ran off to live his little happily ever after life and who cares if Dean is left behind to pick up the pieces and carry the slack..."

"Dean!"

"And you, Cas!" He moved forward, towering over the angel. "You were the worst. You've lied to me, betrayed me, hidden things from me. You were never there for me when I needed you. None of you were ever there for me when I needed you._ And now I'm done with all of you."_

Dean raised the First Blade, all thoughts of concern for the angel drowned out by rage and hate. Castiel scrambled backwards until he hit the bedpost. He was vaguely aware that tears had formed in the corners of his eyes and were now dripping down his cheeks. He opened his mouth to apologize, to say something, but he knew nothing would slow the demon's anger now.

Red smoke swirled between them and then condensed into the familiar form of the King of Hell. Crowley held out one hand imploringly to Dean. Castiel gazed at him in surprise.

"Calm down, Squirrel," stated Crowley in a soothing tone. "Think before you act."

Dean's face remained the picture of mindless rage. He hesitated but looked even more perturbed at the interruption.

"_Dean_," snapped the King of Hell, his own eyes bleeding into the red film of his true nature.

The Knight blinked rapidly, some of the rage slipping away. He let the leather cord holding the vial slip from his grasp and thump against his chest. He suddenly felt almost tired, a feeling he hadn't expected to ever feel again. He moved suddenly, shoving past Crowley, and stalking out of the room into the night.

"I'm done here," he called out over his shoulder, dissolving into darkness and disappearing.

Crowley let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he reached up and ran a hand through his hair. Castiel fought to regain his feet, his vessel's loss of blood slowing his movements. He prodded at the wound. He would need sleep to heal it. He looked over at the King of Hell and opened his mouth to thank the demon, but hesitated. Crowley glanced up at him expectantly.

"Why?" he asked instead, staring at the short demon in disbelief.

"Because I actually quite like you angel," he answered casually. He frowned as he glanced at the spot where Dean had disappeared from. He turned to Cas, his voice changing to it's usual syrupy sarcasm. "Don't see why you find that so shocking. All these years together after all. Of course I have other reasons," he drawled with a shrug. "I am a demon after all."

Cas snorted and shook his head, soliciting a smile from Crowley.

"One moment does not negate years of betrayal, Crowley," he replied gruffly

The king gave him a sinister smile.

"No, it doesn't, does it angel ?"

* * *

_Author's Note:_ So, yeah, another chapter. Lots and lots of thanks to everyone who has faved, followed, and reviewed. It means so much to me! And makes me squee. Oh, and Matthias is quoting Psalm 56:8, first in Latin and then in the New Living Translation. And no, I don't actually know Latin, got it from . And _urnae lacyrmales _is a real thing. People in mourning used to carry them and collect their tears in the bottles, which is actually what the verse is referring to. I don't know why I thought it would be neat if they could contain an angel's grace. Guess I'm just weird like that.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel could hear their raised voices but he couldn't make out the words being spoken. Whatever it was, the King of Hell and his prized Knight were not in agreement. A moment later the door slammed open and Crowley stalked in, barely giving Cas a glance.

Castiel nonchalantly ran his fingers over the manacles on his wrists, pretending to ignore the demon. He had been too weak from his scrape with Dean to resist being dragged back to this hidey hole. Dean hadn't commented when Crowley had reappeared with Castiel in tow the night before. In fact, he seemed to be hellbent on pretending Cas didn't exist.

"You won't be able to control him for much longer," he pointed out causally, not bothering to conceal the smug tone that had crept into his voice.

"Oh, shut up angel," groused Crowley, giving the chair Cas was sitting in a kick as he passed by. But the action seemed to lack real vehemence. The King of Hell was worried. And he had every right to be.

xxxxx

Claire woke and stared blankly up at the ceiling above her head. She vaguely recalled Sam mumbling that this was Dean's room before shoving her towards the bed and disappearing down the hall. She knew she should sit up, start moving, but her body didn't want to work.

She rolled over, curling up into the fetal position, her face half-buried in the pillow.

"_Matthias_," she whispered hoarsely, not daring to pray his name. If she prayed for him and he didn't come to her...she couldn't bare the thought of knowing for sure that he was gone.

The thought fueled her, propelling her up and out of the bed. She didn't want to lie where that _thing_ that killed Matty used to sleep. She stumbled across the room, her bare feet slapping against the cold floor. Peeking out into the corridor, she tried to get her bearings. The night before was hazy, and she couldn't remember which direction Sam had brought her in from. Fortunately, the tall man appeared out of a door way down the hall, looking the worse for wear.

"Um, morning," she half-mumbled, half-greeted, raising her hand and giving him a small, timid wave.

Sam turned and stared at her for a minute, unclear as to why there was a teenage girl in his brother's room. He blinked once slowly, and the extra moment seemed to give him the time he needed to clear his head. "Claire," he grunted more than greeted. He shook his head slightly. "Um, you hungry?"

Sam felt the urge to fidget. As much as he had longed for a normal life and a normal family, kids had always made him just a little nervous. He was never quite sure how to act around them. It was Dean that they seemed to gravitate to, not him. He always wondered if it was because Dean had that big-brother aura around him or if they could see past his brother's gruff exterior to the grown-up kid that he was.

The girl gave him a half-hearted, lopsided smile. "Sure."

Sam nodded and then motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen. He began rummaging around the cabinets. Again, Dean's absence was felt. It was his older brother who was the cook. He could see Dean in his mind's eye, making pancakes and telling funny stories to make Claire laugh. Sam felt a pang of loneliness stab at his stomach.

"How about cereal?" he asked with forced cheerfulness, pulling out a box that he hoped wasn't too stale.

Claire looked over from the coffee maker and shrugged. Sam was surprised to see she had made herself at home and had gotten coffee going. He hastily set out what they needed for breakfast and waited for the girl to join him. She walked over, carrying two mugs of coffee.

"So what is this place?" she asked conversationally. Her voice was neutral but Sam could hear the restrained frustration in her tone. He had been an expert at seeming in control in front of adults; he could easily imagine the confusion and turmoil right below her carefully constructed exterior.

"It's the last headquarters of the Men of Letters," gushed Sam. Explaining things, lecturing, seemed to calm his nerves. "They were an elite organization that studied the occult and the supernatural."

Claire snorted. "'_Men_ of Letters? Chauvinistic much?"

Sam smiled. "Well, maybe that's why they died out?" he suggested. "Dean and I are sort of the last ones...though we were raised as hunters instead."

"Aw, must be nice having such a higher purpose in life than normal people!" Claire retorted bitterly. She stabbed at her half-eaten cereal with her spoon. "It obviously gives you the excuse to do whatever you please..."

The smile disappeared from Sam's face. "You and your father are descended from the strongest vessels in humanity," he pointed out softly.

Claire jerked her head up, her blue eyes dark and stormy. "And a fat lot of good that did us, didn't it? I was born to be used. How wonderfully grand is that? Dad's gone and I can't go anywhere near mom and now Matty..."

"Claire..." Sam reached out across the breakfast table, but the girl jerked her hand back. The hunter shrank back from her rejection.

"You're a coward," she accused hotly, tears beginning to drip down her cheeks.

"Yes, I am," Sam replied softly. His admission caused the girl to falter. "Claire, you have no idea how scared I am right now. My brother...Dean is a monster, and I have no idea how to save him. He has Cas and I have no idea how to save _him_. The two people I love the most in this world are in danger and I'm clueless as to what to do next. Claire, I can't even count how many people I have lost over these years. I'm down to just two and now I'm probably going to lose them..."

"But we just left them there..." muttered Clare. "Matty saved me and when he needed me, I..." The young girl wiped angrily at the tears on her face. She remembered times she had been scared from a bad dream and how her dad would scoop her up and cradle her in his arms, singing softly to chase off the nightmares. And it had always worked, even though her dad couldn't sing at all. Claire wrapped her arms around herself, a dull ache forming in her chest – she was all she had left.

"Listen, Claire," said Sam earnestly. "Matthias could be okay." She opened her mouth to protest but stopped when she saw the look in the hunter's eyes. "This place is warded against everything, including angels. So even if he was trying to find you, he couldn't get to you here."

"Or he could be out there hurt and suffering and he can't get to me because of this stupid place!" retorted Claire.

Sam paused for a moment and then nodded. "Then let's go find him."

* * *

_Author's Note: I apologize for both the shortness of the chapter and the long delay in updating. I've had writer's block something fierce, and I kept re-writing and re-thinking. I finally decided to stop thinking so hard and push on. So thanks for reading!_


	9. Chapter 9

Dean watched the sleeping angel. Castiel was slumped forward in the hard-backed chair, his chin against his chest and a small bit of drool pooling in the right corner of his lip. Dean would have been amused at the sight if he hadn't been so furious at him. He wanted to shake Castiel awake and demand answers from his friend.

"Can't you see I'm trying to save you?" he muttered, his voice a mixture of resentment and pleading. He felt desperation welling up in his chest, but almost immediately he could sense the Blade trying to twist that feeling into anger. He took a deep breath, trying to shove the emotions back down. The Blade had begun to control him as a human, but he was so much more now; he would control it in the end. He felt a grim, dark satisfaction at the thought.

He was jolted from his thoughts when Castiel lifted his head and stared at him with sleepy blue eyes.

"Dean?" Cas asked, trying to focus his bleary vision on his friend.

But the demon was gone.

xxxx

Dean sat out watching the moonlight dance across the waves on the lake. How many summers ago had it been when Bobby Singer had first brought him and Sam up to the old cabin and taught them to fish? He had been eight and had pouted the entire car ride up the road. Their father had dropped them off yet again to go hunting another dead end on the yellow-eyed demon. So Dean had sulked, and grumbled, and punched Sammy in the arm making his brother cry, and generally done everything in his power to make everyone around him miserable. But Bobby had persevered. He had been determined to give the boys as many normal childhood memories as he could. By the end of the weekend, Dean had been a happy, amiable kid.

Of course, their dad had been furious.

He still remembered standing there, holding Sam's hand while the little boy cried, their father and Bobby yelling at one another outside of Bobby's house. His father had wanted them training, not wasting their time. John Winchester had threatened to never let them stay with Bobby again. At that moment, Dean had hated his father with everything in him. Why had he always defended them when he and Sammy had become adults?

He's thoughts were derailed when he felt the sudden presence behind him.

"Are you done sulking, Squirrel?" quipped Crowley, coming to stand close by.

Dean let out a bark-like laugh. "You know, sometimes you remind me of Bobby," Dean replied, a smile slipping onto his face.

"Ah, yes, he was a good kisser," replied Crowley with a smirk.

Dean was on his feet with the Blade against his neck before the King of Hell could blink. Crowley did not cower, though Dean could sense that every muscle in his body was taunt.

"Dean..." he said the other demon's name softly, but with a tone of command underneath. Dean felt himself growing tenser as he instinctively rebelled against the silent authority. "Think before you act," Crowley reminded him.

Dean growled and shoved the smaller man away from him, causing Crowley to stagger backward a few steps. He sneered at the newer demon, smoothing his hands down his immaculately tailored jacket. "Are you quite done acting like a petulant child?" snapped Crowley.

"Shut up, Crowley. I am not in the mood for your blathering," muttered Dean.

"PMSing, Squirrel?" When he saw the newly minted Knight's body tense for action, he held up his hands in a placating gesture. "You have to get control of this, Dean. I know you are strong enough..."

Dean tilted his head to the side and gave the other demon a snide smile. "Damn, Crowley. That sounded outright sentimental. Been hitting the human blood again?"

The King gave him a black look. "No, I have not," he answered primly. "But I don't have the patience for you going around mucking up my plans with your constant insecurities."

"And we all know your plans always work," replied Dean snidely, turning back to the mountain panorama stretching out around the lake.

"'O ye of little faith'," simpered Crowley. "I'm doing it just as much for him as for myself."

"For Cas?" laughed Dean in disbelief.

"I do like him, you know," retorted the older demon, feigning indignation.

"Yeah, you might, but you never do anything for someone else. No matter what, you always make sure you get the biggest slice of the pie out of the deal."

Crowley shrugged. "Yes, that's part of being a demon and all." He gave the other man a sideways look. "The only difference between me and every human on this planet is that I'm honest about it. Sort of makes me the better person, don't you think?"

Dean snorted and shook his head. "Is there a point to this little heart-to-heart, Crowley?"

"Just making sure we're still in this together, Dean," hissed the King of Hell. "Because I leave you alone for five minutes and you're about to slaughter everything in sight, including the bloody angel you and I are actually trying to save."

"I have it under control, Crowley..."

"Do you, Dean? Do you really? Because right now your little angel is sleeping off the thrashing you gave him in. From here, that does not look like control."

Dean turned slowly and stood straight, stretching out to his full six foot two height. He stared down at the smaller demon with disdain.

"I. Have. It. Under. Control," he growled in a clipped tone. Even as he spoke the words, he felt the Blade's call, his hand itching to take a hold of it, to cut the other demon down of daring to question him. His body began to shake slightly as his will fought that of the Blade's. Suddenly he smiled down at the diminutive demon. "Besides, who says your way is the only way to save Cas?"

And then he was gone. Crowley slumped slightly, letting out a gust of breath. He looked back out over the inky lake and at the first tinge of light in the east. "Bollocks," he muttered.

* * *

Author's Note: Rather short, but I was actually rather pleased with this chapter. And I wrote it in record time. As always, thanks for reading.


	10. Chapter 10

Sam took one last look around the hotel room. Most of the furniture was wrecked from the struggle between his brother and the two angels, but there hadn't been any wing-shaped burn marks that he had come to associate with the death of an angelic host. Plenty of rust-colored blood stains on the already filthy carpet, but no burn marks. The sheriff's deputy gave him a brisk nod as he slipped back under the crime scene tape.

The hunter felt a thrill of elation that Cas was still alive, although it was tempered by the thought that he may still be Dean's captive. Sam walked quickly across the parking lot towards the Impala, trying to plan out his next move. That was when he noticed the empty passenger seat.

He broke out into a jog, coming up level with the car and peering in, hoping beyond hope that maybe the teenager had decided to take a nap in the back seat. But the Impala was completely empty. Sam brought his fist down hard on the roof of the car.

"Dammit, Claire!" he muttered darkly, running his fingers through his long hair. He glanced around the parking lot, but there was no trace of the teenager. She must have bailed the moment he went into the hotel. Now he had another person to track down.

xxxxxx

Claire Novak knew that Sam was going to be furious, but really, she didn't owe the lanky hunter anything. He could waste his time all day playing cop in her opinion. The sheriff had already told them there had been no bodies found in the hotel, so what was the point of poking around there anyway? Did he think he was Sherlock Holmes or something?

Of course, her idea of just wandering around didn't seem like the best plan either, but she had made her decision and was going to stick with it. Her mom used to like to remind her how stubborn she could be, just like her father. Then she had re-married a year ago and she had stopped talking about Claire's father.

No, she and her father weren't stubborn. They were _loyal_, unlike some people.

Claire spared a glance over her shoulder. She expected to see Sam barreling down at her, but there were just the normal pedestrians busy about on their mundane, daily errands. She turned back in time to barely keep from colliding with a man. He grabbed her shoulders carefully, helping her regain her balance.

"Steady there, love," he stated, instantly dropping his hands before the gesture could be perceived as threatening.

"Sorry, so sorry," muttered the young girl, ducking her head down and trying to dodge to the left and pass on by.

"Are you quite alright?" he asked, his tone colored with concern. He shifted enough to effectually block her way. He gave her a kind, paternal smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I'm fine..." Claire murmured, edging away as a sudden wariness filled her chest. "I really am sorry, sir."

The man flashed her a brilliant, albeit devilish, smile. "So polite! I really expected no less from Jimmy Novak's daughter. Your father is such an _angel_, isn't he, dear?"

Claire's eyes widened. For a moment she considered screaming, but she stamped down the panic and reminded herself that whatever this thing was, it was most likely willing to kill anyone who came to her help. As if in response to her unspoken questions, the man blinked, his eyes changing. But not to the typical black of a regular demon. His eyes were blood red. Claire felt as if she were going to be sick. Then the man in front of her blinked again and his eyes were back to a human brown.

"There's a good girl, now. Let's not cause a scene, shall we?" he asked, gently taking her arm and guiding her down the sidewalk, farther away from where she had left Sam Winchester.

"What do you want from me?" she managed, fighting the urge to jerk her arm from the demon's hold. She forced her breathing to slow as she tried to remain calm. She glanced behind her, vainly hoping to find the hunter running to her rescue, but there was no sign of Sam.

"The name's Crowley, and I'm here to help." He tutted at the disbelieving look she shot his way. "Really, Claire, dear, I am _hurt_. Castiel and I go way back. We used to be business partners, you see." He smiled wickedly at the shocked and disappointed look on the girl's face. "Ah, our Sammy didn't share that bit with you, did he? He and Dean have always been so protective of that thing that took daddy-dearest from you."

"What does any of this have to do with me?" asked Claire, exerting herself to keep her voice smooth and firm. She couldn't completely banish the small tremor that shook her voice as she spoke.

Crowley beamed down at her, watching the remains of Castiel's grace flickering through her being. So this girl was Dean's Plan B? Well, Crowley could fix that just fine. "You ought to be able to relate to being protective of angels, wouldn't you? What's yours' name again? Matthias was it?"

Claire's jaw clenched as she fought to keep her face neutral. She knew it was foolish to trust anything the demon was saying, but she thought about the angel who had been the only friend she had had for a long time, and she knew she would make the foolhardy decision.

"It's my soul, isn't it? You'll tell me where he is if I give it to you?" she muttered, keeping her eyes fixed on the cement. Her stomach churned, but if this was what it took to help Matthias, she would do it.

"Oh, no, I'm doing this out of the goodness of my own heart. Well, the closest thing to it," he amended, as she darted another incredulous look at him. He grinned at her. "Let's just say it's in my best interest to help you." He laughed as she continued to stare dubiously at him. "Come now, trust your Uncle Crowley."

He guided her off the main street and then through a series of back alleys. The town gave way to woods. Claire felt almost giddy from her heart thudding the further away from others the demon led her. Forget all the things her parents had taught her about not trusting strangers; this was a _demon_. Granted, a very suave, seemingly genial demon, but a demon none the less. Claire tripped over a root, and held out a hand to steady her self, touching the bark of a nearby tree. She drew her hand away quickly, her fingertips sticky with blood. She could feel the color drain from her face.

"Dean did quite a number on your little boyfriend," commented Crowley breezily. Claire turned to him, her eyes wide and desperate. "Now don't fret, love," he cooed, reaching up and pushing a strand of hair that had fallen into her face. She flinched away from his touch. Crowley just laughed in response.

"You should be glad I am so magnanimous and not so easily offended." He gave her a dark, wicked glance. He dragged her along, deeper into the woods, Claire stumbling behind him. "Ah, here we are..." he announced as they practically stepped on a huddled form half-hidden in the underbrush.

"Matthias!" Claire cried, wrenching her arm free from the demon's grip and tumbling forward, dropping to her knees next to the angel. He stirred, opening eyes that were glazed with pain. Claire gave him a wobbly smile, running her hand through his spiky blonde hair.

"No," he mumbled. He weakly tried to push her hand away. "I don't want you to...see this, Claire," he muttered.

"Matty..." Claire began to admonish, but Crowley cut her off.

"He's too wounded to heal himself," explained the King of Hell, watching the angel disinterestedly. "Normally a _rit zien_ would have already put him out of his misery, but unfortunately for Matty here, Castiel killed one of the few that managed to survive the fall."

Matthias struggled to sit up at the sound of Crowley's voice, his single remaining wing fluttering uselessly. "_Demon_," he hissed, pulling the human girl closer to him. "Begone!"

Crowley laughed dryly. "Or what? You'll kill me? You can't even stand... And here I brought you your little human for one last goodbye."

"You said you were going to help!" shouted Claire, looking up at him through her tears. "Liar!"

"There is one thing you need to know, Claire Novak," answered Crowley coolly. "I do not lie. You can save your angel." He crooked his finger, beckoning her.

"Claire, whatever he promises, don't..." whispered Matthias, but Claire pulled away from him and he was too weak to stop her. "Please, Claire, it won't be worth it," he begged as she stood on wobbling legs and approached the demon.

"What do I need to do?" Claire asked, her voice cold with determination.

"Your angel is too weak to heal the wounds Dean inflicted on him with the First Blade on his own. Simply put, he needs more grace." And with a smile, Crowley reached into his jacket and pulled out a wicked-looking syringe.


End file.
